


Walking in a Winter Wonderland

by SuperFreakeh



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Fluff, Lyricstuck, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFreakeh/pseuds/SuperFreakeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleigh bells ring/Are you listening?<br/>A case in which two boys grow up through the subtle nuances of disjointed family, question everything from infanthood to adolescence, and in which everyone finds their missing piece at long last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Are You Listening?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swarmsoflizards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swarmsoflizards/gifts).



> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Enjoy these daily updates before your official school break begins~

_Sleigh bells ring_

_Are you listening?_

The tinkle and chime of glistening, gilded gold rings in your sensitive ears.

“Merry Christmas, John,” a soothing voice murmurs. You don’t fully understand, you’re not even a year old yet. You can’t describe it, but there’s a subtle glow that outlines every silly shape and color. It comforts you from the inside out, and you snuggle deeper into your father’s warm touch.

_In the lane_

_Snow is glistening_

It was a tough few steps, but you made it. Bro bundled you up and let you walk outside the back of the building, let you climb over his knees and tumble into the vast drifts of fluffy snow.

Your chubby hands tried to hold the cold stuff, but it all fell through, making your fingernails turn blue and your nose blush red. Bro’s deep voice chuckled somewhere above you, outside of your sight, and pulled a warm fabric over your palms. Tiny, handmade mittens adorned your hands, and a slight smile adorned his.

_A beautiful sight_

_We’re happy tonight_

_Walking in a winter wonderland_


	2. As We Go Along

**_Ch. 2_ **

_Gone away is the bluebird_

_Here to stay is a new bird_

Your dad always said your blue eyes sparkled like the sea, but you thought it was more like the slick icicles that hung like great, slim bats from the roof. Dad had you in cozy onesie pajamas and you were enjoying crawling around beneath the glowing tree and ogling the shining ornaments that hung just out of your reach. The smell of gingerbread, sugar, and vanilla wafted over every surface and you could faintly hear your father humming along to the radio.

You know from last year that this special time, the time when the glow of the tree and scent of the cookies filled every nook and cranny, was your father’s favorite. He was a quiet man, mostly keeping up with his work and you, and sometimes reading his fatherly magazines or gazing longingly at the birds that pecked at the many feeders outside on the porch. You were still a very young child and could, of course, not comprehend the feeling of longing or solitude, but for now, it seemed your father was content with you and your clear, blue eyes, and the warbles of birds in the trees.

_He sings a love song_

_As we go along_

Bro was quiet. Your first words were “da-dah” and though it didn’t seem to repulse him, he let out a deep breath and set you down in your makeshift crib (a conglomeration of swords for fencing and fluffy innards for bedding). You cried when you were alone, but by your next Christmas, you learned to think little baby thoughts in your baby mind and spend your time developing a sense of creativity, or whatever it was that would get you through the silence in the future.

Something changed about him at Christmas. He sang low, his voice crackly and out of tune, but to your young, willing ears, he sounded perfect, like Santa Claus himself. Bro pushed around eggs in a frying pan and you went back to falling asleep while hypnotized by the magnificence of the tiny living room tree.

The voice that held notes of uncertainty and frailness wavered in and out of your hearing and you soon fell fast asleep.

_Walking in a winter wonderland_


	3. When You're In Town

**_Ch. 3_ **

_In the meadow we can build a snowman_

_And pretend that he is Parson Brown_

Dad taught you how to roll a ball of snow with your tubby, thick fingers underneath the gloves an aunt had gotten you last year. The two of you took to the back yard and in near silence carefully rolled snowballs up to respectable snowman size. The stronger man was able to make a boulder out of his snowball, but you were only able to manage maybe a grapefruit. He laughed at your failure and simply patted you on the back, causing you to stumble a bit. He looked down at you without making you feel small and you smiled back, flashing brilliant, white, new teeth.

The two of you piled the snowballs until a sizeable snowman family was formed. Dad had a snowdad, snowmom, and his mom, snowmam; you had yourself a snowboy and a snowtot, a very small bundle of snow that only distantly resembled a little brother or sister snowperson. You looked to your dad hopefully, pointing and smiling widely at your creation. Dad’s hand slid from snowmom and snowmam’s shoulders and to your torso, scooping you up and turning up his lips without truly smiling. He brought you into the kitchen and you complied, lured in by his offer of hot cookies to warm your hands.

You took a last look at your snowfamily. They looked so happy you could cry, and you wouldn’t know why.

Spring came. You still didn’t know why.

_He’ll say are you married_

_We’ll say no man_

There were other kids at the complex for you to hang out with. There were big kids and little babies still sucking on their mommies b— no, that was a bad word, Bro said you shouldn’t say that. ( _That_ had been your second word and you think maybe Bro wishes is wasn’t.)

But there weren’t any other preschoolers like yourself. The big kids had tall shoes and smelled rancid, like grease, sugar, and cigarettes. They pushed you and pulled your fine, light hair, calling you nasty names, and you were afraid to ask Bro what the names meant. Two weeks ago, Bro made you leave him to his work and though you tried to play by yourself, it was really hard to have fun with a book you could barely read. The big kids came and soon you were running and laughing gleefully, earning the glares of several other tenants come to peek out and see the racket. You were having a good time until one of the kids dared you to jump off the stairs. It was only four or five stairs, you thought (though you couldn’t really count), but you were reluctant. To ease you off the edge, one of the kids decided to give you a push.

The push was too hard and you split a lip and had to get stitches on your left eyebrow. The doctors said you had bruised something deep behind your red irises; you would probably need protective eye gear for now, they said. Bro only held you tight after the ordeal and smoothed out the pretend wrinkles underneath your eyes. You think he was really trying to wipe away his.

Bro couldn’t stop working. A barely-sober teenager became your nanny because she was cheap. She wouldn’t leave Bro alone until he was out the door. You hated her almost more than the big kids.

You wished you were a big kid already.

_But you can do the job_

_When you’re in town_


	4. To Face Unafraid

**_Ch. 4_ **

_Later on we’ll conspire_

_As we dream by the fire_

You’ve adopted many stuffed animals over the years. Every Christmas, Santa would bring you a plush octopus, chameleon, or walrus. Some of the other kids at daycare had bears and horses and wouldn’t want to play with your creatures, but you loved them all the same. They came in a rainbow of colors, and their scales and fur gleamed and shimmered.

It was Mr. Frog’s birthday today, the day before Christmas, because Santa had come early last year. You and your menagerie were gathered under a red blanket that draped across the fireplace and the couch, sharing secrets and talking about mama and grandmama, and sometimes sipping the lukewarm hot cocoa that Dad brought, specially cooled so you wouldn’t burn your tongue. Sometimes you wondered if there were other kids like you. Dad said you were very smart for your age and that this made you different in a good way, but you weren’t so sure. The teachers at preschool gave you a lot of worksheets that had words and numbers on them instead of bold lines to color inside (or outside; sometimes you had those days where you just felt so contained and couldn’t explain it to anyone but the abused marker in front of you and your animals).

Mr. Frog told you, his velvety lips close to your ear, that you would make some really good friends someday. You just had to wait. You just had to wait a few more Christmases.

_To face unafraid  
_

_The plans that we’ve made_

You weren’t scared. Striders weren’t scared. You were just really cool is all. The other kids—and even some adults—stayed away from you because they couldn’t see your eyes and because you didn’t really know how to get your thoughts into words. You were one cool cat, and you couldn’t for the life of you get over the frustration of being practically mute in a world that seemed so loud and overwhelming.

Bro kept you close to him physically but hardly ever acknowledged your “disorder”, as he called it. You were led by the hand into a store, not bothering to avert your eyes so that you may strain them on the glittery, exhausting masses of holiday decorations. A Rubik’s cube (the highlight of last year’s Christmas, and one of the doctor’s orders) in your hand, you followed blindly as Bro navigated you through the crowd, occasionally cursing out the moms and dads that strung their kids out behind them like connected paper dolls behind them and blocking the way.

Bro was paying for some stuff (work-out equipment, snack food, and some B-list movies) when you tugged on his sleeve, as high as you could reach. You held out your Rubik’s, fully completed, and he tussled your hair and smirked. “Now, kid,” he said, bending down, knees cracking, meeting your eyes behind your shades, “See if you can solve _this_ one.” He pulled out a 4x4 cube, one he’d evidently been keeping since Santa brought you the last one.

“Is it from Santa?” you whispered hoarsely.

He looked startled for a minute but recovered. “Nah. Santa told me he’s got some other stuff for you this year.” He picked up his purchases and you warmed the new cube in your palm. The brothers were content.

What would happen when you ran out of Rubik’s cubes?

_Walking in a winter wonderland_


	5. A Beautiful Sight

**_Ch. 5_ **

_Sleigh bells ring_

_Are you listening_

_In the lane_

_Snow is glistening_

You had almost been through ten more Christmases.

Ten more years of solitary snowfamilies.

Of more cubes and puzzles you no longer gave a shit about.

It was more lonely nights by the fire as your father worked hard as the average American businessman.

More days and nights spent blocking out the stares and the sounds with an electronic screen and your thoughts.

_Gone away is the bluebird_

_Here to stay is a new bird_

You thought he would never notice.

The one who called himself your caretaker.

How could he, a grown-up, notice…

That you wanted more?

“Christmas will be different, this year,” he wrote in red icing as you awakened to a sickly sweet vanilla pastry.

“You. Me. New York, baby.”

You really couldn’t help but grin like a kid. You ran to pack your things, your animals and your winter coats.

You couldn’t keep a gasp and a tear from falling. Sometime as you shoved your crap into a duffel bag you thought you caught yourself humming.

_A beautiful sight_

_We’re happy tonight_

_Walking in a winter wonderland_


	6. We'll Have Lots Of Fun

**_Ch. 6_ **

_In the meadow we can build a snowman_

_And pretend that he’s a circus clown_

You’ve never seen snow so blindingly white before. It was crisp, refreshing, awakening. The moment you plopped down with a celebratory pounce on your hotel bed, you were begging at your father’s feet to go out and explore just a teensy bit by yourself.

He said he’d let you if he could follow behind. You frowned, feeling a sour mood coming on, but he waved the temptation of street vendors selling cinnamon rolls and you suddenly found a good use for his fatherly wallet, and his great, subtle kindness. You took his hand like you did when you were a kid and raced ahead to see the sights.

_We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman_

_Until the other kiddies knock him down_

You told your brother that you’d be heading out on the town to see the famed Christmas tree. He mumbled some sort of assent and you pouted, grabbing hold of his wallet and whispering not-quite under your breath about “how would it look for a young, supple teenage boy to be out on the streets of New York at night” and that caught his immediate attention, grumbling to himself but keeping a secure hand on your slim shoulders in parental assurance.

You almost jumped out of the doors and somehow, in this place where no one knew you, felt free to express yourself how you wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Merry Christmas, Emma! <3 Let's work hard again in the new year~


	7. Ain't It Thrilling

You were having a jolly good time by yourself, your dad observing from a park bench, a freshly-packed ball of snow in your hands just ripe for your first snowman in the Big Apple…when _he_ showed up.

Your hands were buried deep in your pockets, the only pair of mittens you would actually wear having been outgrown over ten years ago. Bro tapped your shoulder and you nodded, watching him as he slunk away to buy some hot roasted almonds that were roasting on a corner. You kind of shook your head. Your bro was a hip guy, but what most people didn’t know about him was that before anything else, food was on his mind (you were, too, but you didn’t like to say it or even really think it).

It appeared that he was also with a single male guardian. The boy continued his laidback pace closer and closer to your snow-fort-in-progress. You saw that his eyes were covered by sunglasses (a strange choice of winterwear, you supposed, but hey, saying he was weird would just be the pot calling the kettle black) and that he had a thin maroon scarf shielding his neck from the bite of the cold and large, sturdy boots to trek in. You somehow knew he wasn’t paying attention to you and found yourself studying him. You subconsciously crouched behind your tiny snow-wall.

You sauntered over towards the middle of the park, nodding mentally and immediately mapping out the blueprints for what you were sure was destined to be Central Park’s sickest snow-throne. You sank down on your knees, ignored the dampness, and focused only on the cool feeling of concentration beginning to sweep over you. You had just cupped your bare, pallid hands over a lump of snow when your eyes caught a patch of color nearby. Blue. A blue coat buried in the snow. A person attached to the coat? You nearly jumped back in surprise when it moved.

You’ve been discovered! Abort, abort! This is no place for a child—I need an adult! But it was too late. Stunned eyebrows revealed themselves over dark shades and the object of your study appeared all-too-suddenly in front of you, not ten inches away. You shook your head and attempted to dislodge the snow that had fallen down your back. You put on a nervous grin, slowly straightening yourself out.

“Wha—um. Hi there!” you tried cheerfully.

You couldn’t respond. You knew and Bro knew that you weren’t good with strangers; you kept your mouth shut.

You scrunched your brows up in mild worry. Was he mad? “So, ah, sorry for scaring you. You’re kinda in my spot.” You attempted sounding apologetic.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence (hey, just ‘cause strangers bugged you out didn’t mean you didn’t still take pleasure in fucking with their minds) you spoke, your voice unused and hoarse as usual. “Nah, it’s cool.” He looked relieved. Hah. “But seriously though, this is my spot.”

“Uh…what?”

“I’m building my throne here. This is government property now, kid. You done got evicted.”

Was he even speaking English? “Am I being kicked out?” Striking up a little anger into your voice, you started to rail into this bastard. “Because I’ll have you know, I’ve been here for—!”

“Dude, I’m fuckin’ with ya. Chill your tits.” You put a freezing finger over his lips for good measure. “Shoosh.”

You ripped his hand off your face. “What the hell?!” You started to get mad again but saw out of the corner of your eye two figures on a bench that looked suspiciously like your dad and this guy’s guardian sharing a piping how bag of almonds. What a dork, making friends with strangers. You then focused on the boy’s previously deadpan look which slowly cracked until it was in tiny fragments, forgotten on the floor like it had never existed, and wheezing, throaty laughter started to spill out.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry dude.” You coughed painfully mid-laugh. “Ow, shit. That hurt.” A look of worry spread over the kid’s face and your eyes lingered on his charmingly cute tooth gap and your giggles started up again.

His laughter was contagious. “Ugh, you _dick_!” You punched the stranger’s shoulder lightly and your own shook with laughter. Finally, when the fit started to die down, an idea struck you.

And just a moment after that, a snowball struck you. “Yo, dude—”

“Can’t talk now, asshole, you’re under attack!”

And so the two of you proceeded to toss snowballs with great force (and great inaccuracy) at the other, laughing and grinning and letting all your pent up childish energy out in a brilliant display of camaraderie.

You were breathless, and so was he.

“I’m Dave.”

“John.”

You put out a fist for a friendly fist-bump and he put out a handshake at the same time. The two of you awkwardly scrambled for some middle ground before you felt yourself tackled into the ground with, by far, the biggest of bear hugs you’ve ever received.

You left him breathless underneath you. Your cheeks burned sweetly with embarrassment but you didn’t even care to brush it off. You felt strong hands lock behind you and it seemed the link had been completed.

You could have cried, but Striders don’t cry. “It’s nice to meet you, John.”

“Same to you.”

_When it snows, ain’t it thrilling_

_Through your nose is a chilling_


	8. Epilogue

You would never have predicted that five years of friendship later brought you and your new roommate and partner to the gates of New York International Airport, gazing out on sunny streets that didn’t seem so different from the chilly, magical Christmas ones they had been all those years ago.

“We made it. The university can’t send us back now, right?”

You squeeze his hand, tempted to rest your head on his shoulder, but you had done that the whole flight here. “Yeah, guess you’re right,” you chuckle lightly, no longer afraid to speak and to laugh. He sends you a wink and pulls you towards the exit.

“Think we’ll stay here for Christmas?”

_We’ll frolic and play the Eskimo way_

_Walking in a winter wonderland_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Short but sweet, you guys. Remember JohnDave in the new year~


End file.
